Soul Waver
by yelnatsstanley
Summary: One shot. Edward and Bella are two misfits trying to escape their past. Will their addiction for each other, escaping reality and their "sky" save them or destroy them? Rated M for vague drug use. R&R


_**Hey guys, just a random one shot I just wrote and thought I'd put up. (Completely unconnected to anything I'm doing but it was meant to be a fluffy one shot to take away from the angst of IWDFY... did not end up that way, but hope you like it.) The song that inspired it is by Malika Ayane and it's called Soul Waver.**_

**Soul Waver**

They had met on a beach, one beautiful night in America. Neither was quite sure where it was, exactly. When you run from the past, there is never any trepidation of the future. You run forward, you do not look back.

She had captivated him from the first time he laid eyes on her. Her long brown hair twisted into a long plait over her shoulder, her easy wide smile- her top lip just a little fuller than the bottom and the countless freckles etched across the bridge of her nose. She was sitting on a piece of driftwood, watching the fire, taking no notice of the boys that surrounded her. Though her pretty blue dress was long, flowing and simple, she had many admirers. She had already seen _him. _She was just as enchanted by his copper messy hair, bright green eyes and his crooked grin. His white shirt had told her that he hadn't been on the road long. His torn jeans had provoked some hope in her that he wasn't like everyone else.

He made his way slowly toward her, ignoring the green flames of the fire that seemed to envelope them in their own world. One by one the boys drifted away. Someone had left a guitar near to the fire. She had picked it up, firstly to move it away from the damaging warmth, but seemed to have second thoughts. She strummed a few chords effortlessly then plucked a more thought out tune. Her clear warm voice accompanied the melodies and soon the boy began to join in. She wondered briefly where he had heard the tune from, it was a relatively unknown song, and she had made up the accompaniment of the guitar.

They sang together all night. Although the crowd of people never melted away altogether, perhaps bored by the repeating of their words, they did not stop, did not change the song. They continued their music until the sun rose, and it was time to pick a new city.

She made to return to the brightly coloured van that had become her home, along with a few others, but his hand closed on hers.

"Come with me."

She climbed instead into his rusty old banger; she couldn't name it to save her life, much like the man she travelled with. She examined his messy car while he dug out some tapes from below his seat. They laughed together at the out-dated music player, but smiled as he pulled the original of their song and he drove away, leaving the past again, and entering the future.

The next night was lost in sighs and gasps at a deserted beach somewhere in North Carolina. He had looked at nothing but her eyes for the duration of the evening, and even when the sun had set and the large pale moon had watched them and she had fallen asleep in his arms; he refused to lose this night to dreams and slumber. The next morning they awoke and she requested they eat breakfast at a nearby diner. His answering smile took her breath away. He had never seen a girl eat so much in his life, and they both laughed as they fled from their unpaid table, followed for a short while by an angry young woman chewing bubble gum. While they drove away, she busied herself with construction. He barely looked at the road as she gleefully waved the newly made joint in his face.

They parked near a cliff and waited until a haze had clouded their minds before continuing where they had left off from last night.

When they had finished, he instructed her to look around. Instead, she looked up, at the bright clear sky.

"I'll steal that sky for you, if you'd like." She offered.

"Would we share it?"

"Of course."

"What if someone tried to steal it from us?"

"You can be our gatekeeper." She laughed and his slowly blinking eyes crinkled into an easy, lazy smile.

The following days, weeks, months were spent much like this. She did little things for him, like draw cartoons up and down his white shirt in an old Sharpie amongst the general clutter of his car. She would shave his face for him, using a chargeable electric razor she had taken from a chemist. When he grew tired of driving, she would take over and he would curl his head into her lap. For her, he had sung in a crowded street every day for a month until he had saved enough to buy an old, third hand guitar. He would tune it for her when she became frustrated with its age and had tossed it out the car. He would pick the pockets of busy mothers with loaded prams and elderly people whom he would help across the street. He did this to satisfy her need, her thirst for their sky.

Soon the haze became too tame for her, and complete release was needed to _feel._ She began to construct new things. Firstly using foil and lighters, and then using needles.

There was no money, no food. Soon the haze began to disappear too quickly for either of them to pretend they were concerned with neither.

They argued, violently. He would scream right in her face that they needed to slow down, to cut back. She would use her long nails to scratch his arms and chest and tell him that she could never slow down. That she had been running from that.

"Don't you worry that if you slow down and start living like everybody else that your life will pass right before your eyes?"

Then she would take his face into her hands and lick away the salty tears.

"I will fix this."

She returned, with his car nearly three hours later. Her pretty blue dress from the beach had been ripped in several places, and there were bruises on her arms. He didn't even notice. It had not been the first time this had happened. All his eyes saw were the notes tucked into her palms, and her exuberant expression. He had not seen her eyes sparkle since that time on the beach. He had kissed her eyelids and told her to wait from him to return.

He did return. Clutching fresh needles and more sky. Once their eyes had become glazed he glanced at their sky.

"When will you take that sky for us?"

Her eyes were unfocused, and slow.

"Huh?" She was breathing deeply, and slightly irritated he was ruining their high. She had missed this, though needles could be messy, and you had to be careful not to leave it in; it was so hard to care when you were… in the sky, like they were. She wanted to float in that sky, not bring it back down to the ground. Before long this would run out and things like hunger would make themselves known again.

"You never shave my face anymore." He commented.

"We… had to sell your razor, remember? We were coming down that weekend."

"I remember."

"You haven't tuned my guitar for me in weeks."

"You don't play anymore."

"It's hard to get inspiration when old men are shoving their fingers down your pants." She snapped, pulling the needle from her arm and snatching up her little bundle of money and standing up.

She had meant to return to the car, but he grabbed her hand before she could walk.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going with that?" He spat. "We need money for gas, you know. We can't use your sky to fly everywhere."

She pulled against his hand and twisted against his grip. She cursed under her breath and chucked the money at his face. He let her go quickly, too quickly and she toppled over to the floor. She lay there, quietly watching him prepare to fly again. He tucked the rest into his back pocket, eyeing her occasionally but mostly concentrating on breathing. It was almost too hard to remember how to.

"Do you think… that maybe real life might not be so bad?"

He glanced wearily at her. "What do you mean?"

"When I was in the city, I saw a couple about our age, sitting down in the park together. They seemed… happy. Like we used to be. Then the guy who I was with closed the curtains and told me to strip."

"So?"

She shook her head.

"Nothing."

Even in his transcendent state, hope sparked. "Do you want to- to stop all this?"

"Do you?" She studied him closely.

"Yes." He wailed. "I hate it. And I hate you. Every time I watch you drive away to them. They don't deserve to touch you. To know you. To see you like I do. You don't draw on me anymore and I used to love that shit. I want… to try."

Her face broke into a grin and so did his.

"So we will stop?" She made it sound like a question.

"Yes." He took her hands and led her back to the car, and they sat in the back seat as before. They appreciated each other as they used to, and when he saw the bruises on her thighs he kissed each of them.

"You'll never have to again."

"I know."

When they were finished he fumbled with their tapes in the front seat until their song had come on. He hit repeat and noticed the large amount of sky still in his pocket. He took it out and held it up for her to see.

"One last time?" He asked.

She looked reluctant but nodded. There was, after all a lot left and they could sell any they didn't use tonight. It could be sold to buy back his razor. Maybe she could get a new dress.

The tape continued long through the evening, though the night and right on to morning. The gentle sounds uninterrupted by any breathing of the passengers, who were holding hands, needles in arms and their smiles etched onto their dry, blue unmoving lips.


End file.
